Chapter 6

On the HMS Eternity, ship of the spirits, where the sun never shone and the wind never changed, three young men were having a serious debate.

"...really, Horatio, it's all I could do! I was NOT going to lie there and die without taking the blame! Dying is bad enough, but dying while your friend is dishonoured and hanged?"

"You should have laid the blame on me, sirs," piped Wellard, his sweet face set in its conviction. "The dead don't really have feelings to hurt, and you both would have been saved! Oh sir, why didn't you?" Wellard pleaded, misery showing in his eyes.

"Because, I would not dishonour someone else's name for what was no one's fault!" said Horatio. "I also didn't want an angry spectre haunting me for the rest of my miserable life. I wouldn't be able to live with myself." His lips quirked upwards into a grin. "Besides, now I don't have to live with myself, because I'm dead, and I find myself in an afterlife I never believed existed, bickering about a past life with my two best friends!"

Wellerd returned the smile. "When he puts it that way, it's a d*amned convincing arguement."

Horatio turned towards Archie. "Speaking of which, how DID you know I was going to confess?"

His friend rolled his eyes, and sighed hopelessly. "Because it's what you DO. You go around being selflessly heroic and trying to shoulder responsibility and take blame for everything!"

Horatio blinked, slightly taken aback. "Oh!" he replied, looking perturbed. "Do I really do that?"

"YES!" chorused both Archie and Wellard. They glanced at each other and began to laugh. After a moment Horatio joined them.

"Seriously, though, I never expected to see you again," the commander continued. He looked around, the HMS Eternity, pristine and beautiful all about him. "I suppose I never really believed in an afterlife, or even God."

Archie's eyes danced with mischief. "I know. That was the first thing I thought of when I got here: 'Oh, Horatio's never going to believe this'. So anyway-Horatio look out!"

The young man yanked his eyes from his best friend, just in time to trip over an eighteen pounder cannon mount. He went crashing to the deck, nearly pulling Wellard down with him.

"D*mn!" Horatio's hands flew towards his ankle. "Ahh, I think I twisted it! That hurts!"

Wellard and Archie both blanched. "What did you say?" Archie asked, horror filling his every word.

Horatio glanced up at his friend's tone, and was suprised to see both men staring at him in shocked dismay. He hastened to reassure them. "It's alright, I was more startled than anything, it just stung a bit..." he trailed off, when their expressions didn't alter.

"Horatio," Archie addressed him very slowly. "Are you saying your ankle HURTS?"

The confusion evident in his face, Horatio replied, "Yes, just a bit."

"NO!" This single word was spat out by Wellard, his face twisting in despair.

"Archie...Mr. Wellard...what's going on?"

Archie's blue eyes were sorrowful, as he said quietly, "You're not dead at all, Horatio."